


It's Too Much (And Not Enough)

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [21]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Mental Overloads, Reid's Dilaudid Addiction, Sensory Overload, bad things happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Reid has a sensory overload after viewing a crime scene that is far too familiar to him.
Relationships: mentioned Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595023
Comments: 2
Kudos: 101





	It's Too Much (And Not Enough)

**Author's Note:**

> For my Bad Things Happen Bingo!!
> 
> Square: Sensory Overload

Reid could literally feel his skin crawling and he struggled to remove his messenger bag, his jacket, his shirt, his pants, all at the same time, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. It felt cold, clammy, sweaty, and hot all at the same time. 

Noise, too much noise. Even the sounds of his own voice whimpering was too much. It sounded so grating on his ears.  _ Stop,  _ he commanded himself mentally and  _ wow,  _ that actually hurt. How could yelling at himself mentally hurt? 

Everything was too much, and he knew what was happening, but he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control it. Everything was out of control. 

Smell… who decided that Gain actually smelled good? And what was in the carpets, bleach? OxiClean? What?! Reid wasn’t entirely sure, but it smelled horrific. 

Even his tongue tasted too strong, and Reid wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible. He needed to dim the lights in the hotel room, but the thought of moving across the carpet and of touching the light switch made him want to cringe. 

_ Need to be in total absence of everything. No light…. No sound… not touching anything…. Not tasting anything…. Not smelling anything…. Nothing.  _

He vaguely heard his messenger bag hit the floor and he winced as he struggled to right himself. He’s never had his senses this badly overloaded before, and it was a tad bit scary. He’s also not sure what could’ve caused it, which is why he needed to calm the hell down. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

The swipe of a keycard outside of his door made him shriek in honest pain as he tried to take off his shirt and jacket at the same time. It made him dizzy, nauseated, and he got tangled up in them, which worsened his situation. 

“Reid?” Why did Hotch have to speak so loudly? “What’s going on Reid?” 

Reid tried to speak, but all that came out was a pained whimper that was loud, too loud for him. He also couldn’t see Hotch, which both relaxed him and distressed him. 

“Shh,” Hotch soothed. Reid felt his jacket being removed and casted off to the side. It hit the floor and Reid whined as Hotch put the shirt back on him. Hotch shushed him, keeping his voice soft. Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, grabbing his wrists in the process and crossing them over his chest. Reid struggled, fearing that it was too much, no matter how vaguely comforting it was. 

“Breathe,” Hotch commanded softly, but firmly. “Calmly. With me, Spencer.” 

There was something different about Hotch’s usual accent, something off, but Reid was too busy mentally breaking down his overload problem. 

“Stop thinking, Spencer,” Hotch added. “Just breathe with me.” 

Reid swallowed and tried to take a deep breath, but he ended up coughing harshly, doubling over the best that he could in Hotch’s embrace. 

“It’s okay to get overwhelmed,” Hotch murmured. His voice and touch was becoming progressively more calming, and Reid took comfort in that fact. “Just breathe, Spencer.” 

Reid was finally able to breathe deeply, and he slowly relaxed and focused on Aaron Hotchner. On his voice, low, firm, and in an accent that Reid had never heard before, but was helping him calm down and comfort him. On his touch, the way that his broad body shrouded over Reid’s lithe one in a comforting embrace. On his scent, the aftershave and the body wash that the older man used. His eyes were squeezed shut, so he couldn’t see, and he couldn’t very well  _ taste _ his supervisor, but that was fine. This was enough. 

“There we go,” Hotch murmured as Reid relaxed. “There you are, that’s it. Just breathe.” 

Reid nodded and continued to just… breathe. 

“Aaron? Is he okay?” Rossi spoke suddenly, his voice thick with concern. The door closed and Reid didn’t wince, although it was still a little too loud. 

“Sensory overload, I think,” Hotch said softly. “Dim the lights, will you, Dave? Please?” 

The lights dimmed, and Reid felt Rossi’s calloused hands cup his face. He leaned into it, sighing calmly. 

“ _ Passerotto _ ?” Rossi whispered softly. “Can you tell us what happened, what caused you to feel this way?” 

Reid blinked his eyes open to look at Rossi’s face. 

“Hey there,” Rossi smiled softly. “Feel a little better?” 

Reid nodded, relaxing into Hotch’s protective hold. 

“Good,” Hotch smiled. “Let’s get you into some clean clothes, alright? And then we’ll try to talk.” 

Reid nodded. With his brain cleared up and the fog of the overload lifted, he knew what triggered the overwhelming amount of stimuli. What led to it. And he didn’t want to talk about it, but for fuck’s sake, he had two profilers in the room. The profilers who knew him best, after JJ.

Carefully, respectfully, Hotch and Rossi got Reid out of the sweat soaked clothes and into his flannel pajama set and bundled into a soft blanket on the bed. Hotch sat behind Reid, acting as an anchor with his arms wrapped loosely around him. He saw Rossi kiss Hotch’s temple out of the corner of his eye and he couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at his lips.

“Tell us what happened, kiddo,” Rossi said as he sat down in front of Reid. 

Reid swallowed. “The crime scene and the profile,” he said quietly.  _ The cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere. The body of a young man with dark brown hair and a bullet hole in his chest. The journals. The unsub having a history of abuse as a child, trauma, and DID. The syringes all over the place. The Bibles everywhere, dog-eared and with Post it notes sticking out of them.  _ “It reminded me a lot of Tobias Hankle.” 

Hotch gave a rough exhale. “Do you need to call your sponsor, or find the nearest NA meeting?” he asked without judgement, for which Reid was thankful. 

“And are you craving?” Rossi asked softly. 

Reid shook his head to answer both of them. “I mean, the urge is there, but it’s muted. The urge is always there,” he said. “But the scene, and the feelings from when I was with Tobias… when he gave me that first damn shot… It was hard not to mentally go back to that.” 

“And then you were trying to remain in the present, which sent you into an overload of sensory information because you’re trying to put together a profile, deal with a traumatic situation, and reduce any urges you may have due to it,” Rossi summarized. 

Reid nodded, sighing heavily. “Yeah. It’s just…. It’s like…” He paused, trying to explain what he was feeling. “It became too much, far too much, but it was also not enough at the same time.” 

“Poor darlin’,” Hotch hummed. “Dave, why don’t ya make him a cup of tea?” 

Reid whipped his head to look at Hotch. “When the  _ Hell  _ did you get a southern accent?!” he asked in alarm. 

Hotch chuckled. “I  _ am  _ from Virginia, Spencer, so when I was young.” The  _ er  _ in his name became a soft  _ ah _ , and every syllable was softer. Reid rather liked hearing his first name fall from Hotch’s lips as  _ Spensah. _

“I know that, but you sound very Midwestern, like you’re from Iowa or something,” Reid said. “You just use a few more Southern idioms.” 

“I took dialect classes,” Hotch explained. “I wanted to be taken seriously as a prosecutor and I feared my accent would hold me back. So I took dialect classes, and the Midwestern American accent is the blandest accent in existence for America, so most people are trained in that.” 

“Like newscasters,” Reid nodded, his body continuing to relax from the sensory overload.  _ Stupid crime scene _ , he thought to himself in an uncharacteristically childish way.  _ Stupid Dilaudid.  _

Rossi handed Reid a cup of tea, and Reid took it with a smile, drinking it. 

They talked it out to each other, with Reid explaining how each sense was affected during his overload and how they helped. The three of them also talked about the case, and the way that it triggered Reid’s sensory overload. Hotch told Reid he wanted him to do a geographic profile in the morning, and offered to let him take a backseat on this one. Reid refused, and Rossi muttered about stubborn young men. Reid pointed out that having spent considerable amount of time with Tobias Hankle was actually helpful to the profile of this case and Hotch didn’t disagree. 

And if Reid insisted that the BAU’s openly secret couple stay the night with him in his bed?

Well… He wasn’t ever one to kiss and tell. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Twitter: @Alendra_Dragon
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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